Day 18 -- King Edwards and Drakensberg

Day 18
Monday
4/20/09

Been a while since I’ve had a chance to write due to leaving Durban promptly after Friday’s rotations every week to go explore South Africa’s beautiful outdoors!

Spent Thursday and Friday of last week at King Edwards hospital observing the surgical theatre. Due to administrative confusion (an unfortunately common occurrence with this program) King Edwards was initially less than welcoming. Nicole and I decided to forego the official check-in and potential turn-down in favor of donning scrubs and making our way to the surgical ward. Once we made it past the front line, we were pleasantly surprised to encounter surgeons not only willing to explain procedures to us but invite us to lean right in and take a look at a cancerous pancreas or inflamed adenoid. As the teaching hospital associated with the Nelson Mandela school of medicine, we expected King Edwards to be more akin to the hospitals we’re used to in the US. While it was a definite step up from St. Mary’s, I would still describe the conditions in theatre as “pseudo-sterile.” We eagerly observed a laproscopic gallbladder removal and biliary bypass (to remedy obstructive jaundice) on Thursday. Friday was a little more gory (which I loved!) with a bilateral orchidopexy on a 3 year-old who’s testis had yet to drop and, from my notes, a “debridement R femur, sequestrian reaming, IM canal with trigen reamers.” That translates to a cutting through the patient’s thigh, re-breaking a right femur that had healed wrong, and installing a large metal pin down the length of it. Orthopedic procedures are undoubtedly the best from an observer’s perspective as they are so large scale – you can’t miss the metal hammers, power tools, and sound of bone cracking!

After rotation on Friday, some of us headed up to the amazingly picturesque Royal Natal National Park at the ukhahlamba-Drakensberg Range. The Drakensburg Range forms the boundary between South Africa and Lesotho and provides what is described as “the country’s most awe-inspiring landscapes.” We checked in to our backpackers lodge and were promptly drawn by loud music and even louder chatting in multiple languages to the lodge bar. I think we were all feeling a little too Indiana Jones-esque as we downed shot after shot of whiskey at R12 ($1.20) apiece. By the time we staggered back to our 8-person room and crawled into our bunks, I think we all knew we were in trouble for our 7:30am Lesotho trip.

After the nausea-inducing van ride up into the mountains and through border control, the stunningly beautiful, mountainous views made us all feel a little better. We made our way through the hills, past baboons and old men on horse back wrapped in traditional woolen blankets, to a small Basotho village. Somehow accumulating six barefoot Basotho children along the way, we followed our guide up a steep (and similarly nausea-inducing, due to the high-altitude) hill to reach a rock summit where we were greeted by even more gorgeous views. We eagerly devoured our disgusting lodge-packed lunches of cheese and butter sandwiches, sharing most with the kids, while the guide told us about the history of Lesotho and the Basotho people. I had the best intentions but was far too distracted by the views, warm sun, and tiny boy who managed to consume seven of our sandwiches, to learn much of anything. The kids were by far the best part of the trip – we took turns giving them piggy back rides and swinging them around in the air while they laughed at us slaughtering their names and the Besotho word for hello. On the way back down we were led on a search for beer – indicated by a white flag (for regular beer), yellow flag (for pineapple beer), or green flag (for marijuana beer) flying from the top of a hut. We spotted a white flag and followed it to the “brewery,” a small clay hut with two large buckets and old men sitting around laughing and dancing. We were offered large plastic cup full of a thick beige liquid that tasted like the contents of an ashtray had been put through a blender. The members of our group who are being drug-tested for residency in three-weeks had their fingers crossed that we had not accidentally stumbled into marijuana beer territory. How do you explain that to admin? “See I was in the mountains, and there were these old men on horses, and baboons, and this child eating corn – I was giving him a piggy-back ride – and we were looking for a white flag…” Yeah right.

On the way back to the lodge we stopped at the home of a Sangoma (witch doctor) who welcomed us in. The guide translated as he told us how he knew of his gifts as a Sangoma (psychic dreams as a teen) and the most common ailments he sees -- emotional disturbances, headaches, stomach pains, and men who’s “horses don’t gallop.” His necklace of horns and chickens feet rattled as he laughed at the last one.

The next morning we awoke bright and early to hike up to the second tallest waterfall in the world – the Tugela Falls I think. The altitude made me dizzy soon after we started our 12 km adventure – luckily it wasn’t long before I was distracted by trying to discern between loose rocks and dependable ones as we struggled to climb up a 100 meter gorge. Just when I thought my wimpy forearms couldn’t make it any further, I was at the top looking at what may be the most breathtaking view I’ll ever see. Rolling green hills and jagged mountain peaks stretched out around us for what looked like eternity. I was very grateful to not be one of those throwing up from altitude sickness as I took in the amazing views and breathed the crisp mountain air. After a brief lunch break, we continued on. The second-tallest waterfall in the world is apparently also the world’s narrowest, consisting of a slight trickle of water spilling over the cliff’s edge. Very cool nonetheless!

While the way up the way up the mountain was grueling, the way down was utterly terrifying. My fear of heights kicked into full gear as we soon faced a rickety rusted metal ladder affixed to the edge of a cliff. I took a deep breath and tried not to panic as I looked straight down the 30+ meters to the jagged rocks below. Not wanting to have the time to panic I headed down third, staring at my feet and gripping on for dear life with shaky hands as I tried to remember to breathe. I finally made it to the bottom only to reach the top on another – the same but even longer. I was mentally congratulating myself for making it without crying or needing help down like some of the other girls when a tripped over a tennis-ball sized rock and landed shin first on the jagged edges of another. Oops – I guess that’s what I get .

After a long drive home I was eager to fall into bed – bruised, dirty, and exhausted after an amazing weekend.